


Gettin' Right With Jesus

by Ellidfics



Series: Captain Fraudulent:  The Outtakes [33]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Conversion, Gen, evangelism, implied anti-catholicism, steve needs to watch his back
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-09
Updated: 2015-06-09
Packaged: 2018-04-03 14:11:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4103791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ellidfics/pseuds/Ellidfics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam is running late to meet his newest client.  Too bad Pastor Freddie, who won't take no for an answer, got there first....</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gettin' Right With Jesus

**Author's Note:**

> This story is not especially kind to evangelical Protestantism. If this is your faith, apologies in advance.

Sam glanced at the folder, shrugged, and rounded the corner toward his office. His department head had handed it to him yesterday and told him the subject would be in for an initial appointment this afternoon, and of course his last session had run long. Now he was late to meet what was either the most important client of his career or the biggest hoax since those damn fool rumors that the President was Malcolm X's illegitimate son from Mombasa.

“Treat him the way you'd treat any client, Sam,” his boss had said. “You said it yourself, we all have the same problems when we come home. He'll be no different.”

She had a point, and she didn't. Coming home wasn't easy no matter where you'd been deployed, no argument there, but anyone who thought this particular client wouldn't have it ten times worse than average was delusional. Sam had said so, then tried to pass the case file along to Dr. Malarchuk, never mind that he was well past seventy and semi-retired. 

“He'll have a better idea of what the dude needs,” he'd told the boss. “I'm young enough to be his grandson, hell, his _great_ -grandson, and - “

The boss had pursed her lips, shaken her head, and firmly placed the file back in his hands. “I already asked. Doc was a Sentinel of Liberty when he was a kid, and he still has his membership badge and a lot of his old comics. You really think he'd be objective?”

Sam hadn't said much, just sighed. Then he'd taken the file back to his office, opened it, and started to read the reports the VA had managed to pry out of SHIELD's psych department.

_Neatly and appropriately dressed...oriented x 3...denies depression...unique adjustment issues...coping mechanisms, some inappropriate...recommendations...._

It was all there, nice and clinical, and the only thing it told Sam was that his new client was depressed, angry, and refusing to admit it. 

It was all very plausible, at least at first. The man hadn't asked to wake up a legend who'd been used by everyone from political parties to advertising agencies (the Captain America limited edition car wax that “shields your paint like vibranium!” had been over the top when Sam was a kid, let alone now). He'd signed up to do his part, just like Sam had after 9/11, not be an icon adored by millions who hadn't even been born.

It made sense, it truly did. Enough sense that Sam shook his head, made that “mm mm mm” sound his mama did whenever he'd gotten out of line when he was a kid, and polished off what the cafeteria claimed was orange juice without even noticing. It was too perfect, too logical, too much like a case study instead of a man.

Sometimes things just made too _much_ sense to be real. 

So Sam had read the file again, twice, then spent the next few hours reading every public statement the man had made and every article he could find from local newspapers and magazines. Group had come next and taken up most of the afternoon, but he'd managed to find the time to borrow the boss's tablet so he could watch every scrap of footage he could find on MeTube and Yamblr and the networks of the Avengers or Captain America or just plain Steve Rogers going out for a run in Prospect Park. 

Then he'd gone home, checked the DVR on his cable system, and sat down with a scratchpad and a pencil to rewatch the highest rated TV broadcast of the summer. Maybe his new client had been depressed as hell at first – who could blame him? - but that had been months ago. If Sam was going to help, he had to know what was going through Captain America's head _now_ , not back when he'd been such a mess SHIELD had had him on 24 hour suicide watch.

He'd watched, and surfed, and clicked on gossip sites he normally would have found as appealing as stop-and-frisk. Then he'd written up his findings, printed out a copy, and added it to the file. Sam was a good therapist, especially with the PTSD groups, but if he was going to have one of the most famous soldiers in history for a client the more information he had, the better. 

Now he hurried toward the consulting rooms, file tucked neatly under his arm along with a thick stack of pamphlets about the educational, housing, and medical benefits available to active duty personnel (in case the Avengers qualified, which was considered classified for some reason) and veterans (in case the Captain was interested in getting out, which Sam was half expecting). SHIELD had its own retirement plan and health insurance, but that was no reason for the greatest veteran of all not to take advantage of every benefit he'd earned, from education to housing to retirement homes.

Not that someone who could, and had, survive being frozen solid for the better part of a century and still look fresh as a daisy really _needed_ to know about assisted living or retirement savings, at least not for a long, long time.

Sam had almost reached his office when he heard the warm, almost syrupy baritone that was the reason he'd stopped going to services at the base chapel in favor of the AME Zion around the corner from his apartment.

“Well. If you change your mind, you come talk to me, son.” There was a hearty laugh and the thump of a companionable slap to someone's arm. “Bible study's on Wednesday night, services on Sunday morning. You'd be more than welcome.”

“I'll keep that in mind, Padre,” came a slightly too crisp reply, and Sam froze in his tracks as he recognized the voice from all those all newsreels and film strips and documentaries. “I'm kinda busy these days, catching up, but - ”

“We have some folks who can help with that.” Another laugh, this one almost avuncular. “Pastor Siemens runs the history program out at Victory University in Colorado Springs, you know. Their online courses will tell you everything you need to know about what's happened to America since the war. America isn't she was, but with God's help we'll win her back - “

“Right now I think I'm better off with classes I can attend in person. Maybe something at Empire State University,” said the familiar voice in a tone that probably had had Nazis pissing themselves. “Then transfer to Cooper Union so I can get my BFA the way Sister wanted me to, maybe the Army War College if I - “

Another soft thump, and an even heartier chuckle that was proof positive Freddie was either truly blessed of God or too damn stupid to breathe. “That's a great idea, Captain. God has a plan for everyone, artists and soldiers alike. I'm just here to help you figure out that godly plan and get right with Jesus, nothing else.“

“Hey, Freddie!” Sam rounded the corner before the conversation went completely off the rails and thrust out his right hand for a shake. “How you doing, m'man?”

“Samuel Wilson, as I live and breathe. How are you upon this blessed day?” Pastor Freddie, who wasn't quite pudgy enough to qualify for extra PT time, at least this week, stiffened but returned Sam's handshake. “I was just inviting Captain Rogers to experience the Word of the Lord with us tomorrow night, give him some spiritual comfort for his good work in the world. God has anointed him to carry the burden for our country, you know, and - “

“It was Dr. Erskine who chose me, not God,” said Captain Rogers, who was every bit as tall and broad and blond as in the filmstrips. He had never looked this annoyed, though. “I got some lucky breaks, nothing more.”

Pastor Freddie gave him his best professional, slightly too toothy smile. “Of course God chose you, son. He has a plan for us all, you know. It's all right there, in the Bible, if you know where to look. When was the last time you heard God's Holy Word?”

“Two weeks ago when I went to Mass,” said Captain Rogers, and oh yes, he was not happy, not one little bit. “Father Rivera - “

“Now, now. With all due respect to your priest, in my experience they don't know the Good Book as well as they they think they do.” Pastor Freddie leaned closer. “I'm sure he's a good man but he has to answer to the Pope and - “

“That's a real interesting point, Freddie, absolutely, no question. Makes me sorry I have to interrupt your little talk,” said Sam, not sorry at all. He stepped between the two men before Rogers' expression could go all the way from “not happy” to “righteously pissed.” “Captain Rogers? Sam Wilson, Veterans' Administration. Dr. Michalik said she'd talked to you about me.”

The frown between the perfect brows smoothed out. “That's right, she did. I think we have an appointment around now, right?”

Sam made a show of checking his phone, and if he raised it high enough to block Pastor Freddie's view of the Captain, well, that was just too bad. “That's what my calendar says. My office's right down the hall from the coffee station. Want a cup of coffee before we start?”

“Not unless it's improved in the past seventy years,” said Captain Rogers, and if Sam hadn't believed the man was doing better than the file indicated, the slight but unmistakable smirk sealed it. “Water'd be good.”

“You got it,” said Sam. He flashed Pastor Freddie his brightest, widest grin. “Sorry, Freddie, but you'll have to take your place in line. Someone should have walked Captain Rogers through his benefits already so this is going to take awhile.”

“Bless your heart Sam, you always know just when to do your job.” Pastor Freddie held up his hands, soft cheeks flexed into a smile that would have looked great on Sunday morning TV. “Captain, you know where to find me when you need to talk.”

“I'll keep that in mind,” said Captain Rogers, and was Freddie really so dumb he didn't notice the _in a pig's eye_ edge in the other man's voice? “Thanks.”

Sam waited to speak until Freddie had held out his hand, realized that Captain Rogers had no intention of shaking, and strode off just a tetch too firmly. “I'm sorry you ran into Freddie. He means well, or so he says.”

“Figured that out,” said Captain Rogers. He cocked an eyebrow at Sam. “We had a Holy Joe like that in my unit for a while. Didn't last too long.”

“Sounds like a story,” said Sam. He gestured down the hall. “Want that water now? I wasn't lying about there being a lot to go over so I hope you don't have to be somewhere for a while.”

“Not unless there's trouble,” said Captain Rogers, patting a phone-shaped bulge in his pocket. “Thanks for the save.”

“Glad to help. Some of the chaplains these days get a little too enthusiastic, especially the ones from those megachurches.” Sam shook his head. “Want to get started?”

“Only if you tell me more about your pal Freddie,” said Captain Rogers, glancing over his shoulder. “I get the feeling he'll be back.”

“You're not wrong about that.” Sam waved him down the hall. “First let's start with your educational benefits since you were saying something about college - “

**Author's Note:**

> Evangelical chaplains and right-wing Christian officers attempting to convert Catholics, Jews, mainline Protestants, and other non-believers have been a growing problem in the military for the last thirty or so years; notable incidents have included [Lt. General William Boykin](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/William_G._Boykin#Religious.2FPolitical_views_and_comments) making anti-Islamic speeches while in uniform, [rifle sights imprinted with Biblical verses](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Trijicon_biblical_verses_controversy), and blatant efforts by [evangelical officers, teachers, and civilian "host families" of Air Force Academy cadets](http://www.nytimes.com/2005/05/12/education/air-force-chaplain-tells-of-academy-proselytizing.html?_r=0) to force cadets to convert and join local ultra-conservative megachurches. Odds that someone like Pastor Freddie would try very, very hard to bag Steve Rogers, especially after finding out that Steve was raised Catholic.


End file.
